NO PLAYS EXCHANGED. ; 1378 — -=- - i {> :69 B7 : — — -[ ,py 1 J [15 CENTS. I THE ACTING DRAMA. No. 110. BEOKEN PROMISES. NEW YOKE: HAPPY HOURS COMPANY, No. 5 BEEKMAN STREET. ["ha Amateur's Easel; or, The Art of Making Up. Price, 25 Cents. rh3 Amatear's Uuide to Home Theatricals. Price, 25 Cents. \rnold 3 Dialogues, Plays and Speeches. Price, 30 Cents. low we Managed our Private Theatricals; or, A Guide to the Amateur Stage Pric3, 25 Cents. lor Tableaux; or. Animated Pictures. Price, 25 Cents. 'ow Pantomimes; or, Harleq^uin in The Shade. Price, 25 Cents. How f e Manapfl Our Prifate TIeatricals. In -which \rill be found plain directions for the construction and arrangement of the Stage, painting the Scenery, getting up th > Costumes, making the Properties and Accessories, Hints on Stage Effects, full and complete instructions for making Calcium Lights, etc., etc., ivith numerous illustrations and diagrams. To Tvhich is added "Penelope AxxE," a roaring farco for home performance. Prepared for the use of schools, private families, and dramatic clubs. Price ^5 Cents. The Actor's Art. Its Hequisites and how to obtain them, its Defects and hovr to remove them. Containing clear and fidl directions in every branch of the Art; with complete and valuable instructions for beginners, relative to rehearsals, entrances and exits, gen- eral hints on action, qualities of voice, etc. , etc. In short, an indispensable book to the amateur. Price 15 Cents. Parlor TaWeaiix ; or, Animatel Pieties. For the use of Families, Schools and Public ExhVoitions. Containing about eighty popular subjects, with plain and explicit directions for arranging the stage, dress- ing-room, lights, full descriptions of costumes, duties of stage manager, properties and scenery required, and all the necessary directions for getting them up, so that any one can act in them. Everything is stated in a plain, simple manner, so that it «'ill be easily understood ; everything like style or unnecessary show has ben avoid- ed, in order that all may readily grasp at the author's meaning'. Eor public or private entertainment, there is nothing which is so interesting and instructive as the tableaux. Price ^5 Cents. Shaflow PaDtoiDiiies ; or, Harlepin ii the Siafle. How to get them up and how to act in them ; a\ ith full and concise instructions and numerous Illustrations. Also full and complete descriptions of properties and costumes. It has been the aim of the author to provide harmless home amusement for old and young, excluding eveiything objectionable to sound morality and good home training. By Tony Denier, Pantomimist, author of "Tony Dcuier's Parlor Pantomimes," " Amateur's Guide," etc. Price 35 Cents. Tie Stmai) Sweater. Being a collection of Comic Speeches and Pecitations, Burlesque Orations, Stump Speeches, Laugliable Scenes, Humorous Lectures, Button-Bursting Witticisms, Pi- diculous Drolleries, Funny Stories, etc., etc., translated into the four modern lan- guages — Yankee, Dutch, Irish, and Ethiopian — for the convenience of the public i:t large. Price 15 Cents. Ventriloplsin Made Easy, ani Tie Sefoiid-Siglit Mystery, As practiced by Eobert Hellor and t)thers, fully explained. In this little volume v. c place all the venders of Yextkiloquism at the command of our yoimg friends. Price ^5 Cents. Either of the above will be sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of the price, by HAPPY HOURS COMPANY, No. 5 Beekman Street, New York. BROKEN PROMISES. A TEMPEEANCE DRAMA, In £ivc ^cts, B Y S . N . COOK, AUTHOR OF "out IN THE STREETS," "ENOCH ARDEN," ETC., ETC. COEEECTLT PRINTED FROM THE PROMPTER'S COPT, WITH THE CAST OF CHARACTERS, COSTUMES, SCENE AND PROPERTY PLOTS, RELA- TIVE POSITIONS OF THE DRAMATIS PERSONJE, SIDES OF ENTRANCE AND EXIT, DISPOSITIONS OF CHARACTERS, ETC., ETC. I NEW YOEK : Copyright secured, 1879, by HAPPY HOURS COMPANY, No. 5 BEEKMAN STREET, BEOKEN PEOMISES o:- CAST OP CHARAOTEHS. Mark Fields, (An Englishman),... Jim Larkin, (A Bumnter) Ned McCat.l, (An Rx4kief) Larry Bailey, (In lai>e -with Kitty) . Jack McCall, (A Counter/eitor j Bartender Mrs. Fields, (An Adventuress) KiTTiL. Fields, ( Daughter of iJlKVx). Nell Larkin, (Sister of Jim) .,,,,... COSTUMES.— MODEBN, Jim Larkin's dress very poor until change in last act, when it is to be very much too large for him. PEOPEETIES. ACT I. Carpet down. Cupboard. Curtains to window. Table. Six chairs. Paper money. Wine and glasses on tray in cupboard. ACT n. Scene L— Plain table. Five plain chairs. Pen, ink, and paper. Letter discov- ered on table. Scene II. — Sofa, r., at back. Tables R.c. and l.c. Six chairs. Money. ACT III. Liquor store bar fittings, complete, R. Two round tables. Chairs. Spittoons. Pocket pistol. Money. BROKEN PROMISES. ACT IV. Cottage furniture. Chintz curtains to window. Cottage tables, chairs, &c. Bun- dle of letters. Bottle of liquor and glasses on tray, with lemon, jug of hot water, sugar, and spoons offs.E.L. Liquor flask. ACT V. Carpet down. Handsome furniture — sofa, easy chairs, tables, and other chairs. Writing materials discovered on table. Bottle of chloroform. Scene.- SCENERY. ACT I. Interior backinc Window. Poor. o I 1 O 1 1 Chair. Chair. Chair 1 o ol 1 Cupb'rd. Chair. Table. Chair. Chair. o Neatly Furnished Room in Mark Field's House. Back grooves. Window, r.f. Door, L.F. Cupboard s.e.r. Table k.c. Scene I. ACT II. Interior Backing. Door. Window. o Chair. 1 1 o Chair. 1 1 O cCDc Table. Chair. Table. Chair. BROKEN PROMISES. V A Room at Nelly La rkin's— plainly furnished. Second grooves. Door r.f. Window, L.F. Table, L.c. Small table, s.e.l. Scene II, Interior backing. X -wJw o Chair. S JOJo cCHo T Chair. Table. Chair. Chair. Table. Chair. Another Room in Mark Field's House. Back grooves. Centre doors. Doors S.E.R. and s.e.l. Sofa r. up stage. Tables, R.c. and l.c. Seven chairs. Scene. — ACT III. Interior Backing. Ch ^ -1 1 '^ ^^ « ; oCl lair • Centre doors. O Chair. o? Table. Chair, O Chair. o? Chair. Table. C Cl A Liquor Saloon. Ear iixtures, &c., R. Centre doors. Door s.e.l. Table r.c. and L.C- Six chairs. XI BBOEEN PBOMISES. Scene.— ACT IV. Exterior backing. Window. Door. 1 Chair. o O o o O o Chair. Table. Chair. Chair. Table. Chair. Cottage Interior. Door,L.F. Window, r.f. Tables, r.c. and l.c. Doors, S.E.R. and S.E.L. Scene. — ACT V. Interior backing. lir. Lari J Chair. Large c. Arch. Sofa. IZD Chair. Chair. Table. Chair. O oOo Chair. Table. Chair. A Drawing-Room at Mark Field's House. Centre arch. Doors s.e.R. and s.e.l. Sofa L. up stage. Tables, r.c. and l.c. Six chairs. %* There is no charge for the performance of this piece. BROKEN PROMISES. ACT I. Scene. — A Boom at Maek Field's. Neatly furnished. Door, Ij.¥. Windoio, icilh curtains, R.F Ctw&oards.E.R. lahle and two chairs E.C. Four other chairs. Miter Ned McCall, door L..r, Ned. Comfortable surroundings here, upon my word ; vast im- provement upon the late borne of Ned McCall. The old lady played her cards well, she fished for gulls and got one in the person of Mark Fields. And he, poor old fool, thought be was marrying the widow of that distinguished American, the late General McCall. (Laughs and sits k. ) Well, my paternal ancester was a distinguished man in certain circles. Ah ! that was a hard crew that I used to run with. (Jumps up, ) But that's all over now. We have parted company for good. I mean to shake them now, one and all. Enter Jim Laekin, door l.f. Jim, ( Opening the door and standing in doorway. ) Hello ! hello here ! This is a kind of a sylvan bower for a man like Ned McCall. Don't you find yourself out of place ? ( Comes down l. ) Vice in the abode of virtue ! Ned. (R.) There, there, that will do! Any further remarks are unneccessary, Mr. Larkiu. Jim. Jir. Larkin! (Laughs satirically.) That's good ! I'll take off my hat for that. (Salutes in like manner.) How fast we learn. 8 BROKEN PKOMISES, Ned, I have just been tbiukiug about j^ou, Jim ; not only you, but all the old crowd of past acquaiutauces. I was thinking that Jim. We were old friends through thick and thin, that no change of time or circumstance, as the jDoet says, could ever change our friendship ! Eh, Ned ? (Slaps him on the shoulder, Xed. I was going to say, Jim, that the ties which once bound us together in the cause of interest Jm. Cannot now be rudely severed or sundered in the cause of friendship ! Ned. Don't interrupt me, Jim ! I wish now to ' Jim. Renew our vows of eternal fidelity, eh ? That's it, isn't it ? I know what you mean, Ned, but you're too modest to say the word. Modesty is what ails you, my boy ! it is a weakness with me also. But no matter about that, with all our modesty we remember the daj'S t^'hen the cramps nipped us often. And we remember that we were not sufficiently careful in our manipulations at times, and were obliged to play checkers with our respective noses, and gazed through windows adorned bj' (Laughing. Ned. (Seriously.) Jim, be quiet, will you? Those days you speak of belong to the dead past, that past which with me I wish to be buried deep in oblivion ; that the memories of the past like my companions of that time shall be forgotten in the future I Ji7n. You're right, Ned, you're right, v/ho can blame you? Go back on Sandy Magruder, and Fatty McDowell, and the whole crew of them. We'll shake them, won't we? Pals change as well as for- tune. Our circumstances have changed and we'll change with them — yes, we will shake them, Ned. iVec7. We will shake them, you say ? May I ask you, Jim, whom you mean by ice ? Jim. Why we, you and I, of course. We have been old partners so long that we are almost one, you know. (Laughs.) "Two souls with but a single thought," etcetera, etcetera, as the poet says. Many were the deeds of darkness done by us, Ned, and often we have sworn to share each other's fortunes in weal or woe, and we won't go backj on each other now, will we ? Ned. (Throws his hal dozen on table.) I am going to turn over a' new leaf now, and you must remember, Jim, that Ned McCall, the^ stepson of old Mark Fields, is not to be known in the places that once' knew Ned McCall, the Jim. (Angry.) Thief! I'll finish tnat sentence for you, Ned,"' because you're so modest and hate to say it ! (Laughs. - Ned. I cannot listen to such language. I've turned over a new leaf and am going to be a different man, and for the future associate with companions other than those I have associated with in the bitter past. Ji7n. Of course, give the boys the shake, allbut^old Jim. You'll stand by him to the last, won't you, Ned ? BEOKEN PROMISES. \} Ned. Ko ! We may as well tr}' to understand each otlier at once, Jim. When I shake one of the old crowd, I shall all. Jim. All ? Ned. Yes, all ! Jim. Do you include me ? Ned. I do. Jim. If any one had told me no longer ago than this morning that Ned McOall would shake his old pal,. Jim Larkiu, I would have knocked him down. And, if I hear any one say so now I'll knock him down. Ned. You would ? What, any one ? Jim. Yes, any one ! Ned. Do you include me ? Jim, I do. Ned. I am not to be threatened, Jim. Jim. And I am not to be triffled with, Ned. I am resolved and am going to stay with you, and that's all about it. Ned. You are not ! Once for all, the low class that I once asso- ciated with must not presume to know me now. Jim. *' Low class?" (Laughs.) That is good! To what class, pray, belongs Ned McCall ? Ned. Once a creature on the same grade with you, he is difterent now. He is a Jim. A tliief, as he always was ! None of your fine airs with me, Mr. Ned, You think to shake me because that mother of yours took in old Mark Fields, aud he' has money. She deceived him, made the old fool believe tliat she was a distinguished lady and well known in society, aud the simple hearted old Simon took it all in. She is a disUng^dshed lady, ain't she? (Laughs.) Yes, at Police head- quarters, well known in society (whispers him) of pickpockets. (Laughs.) Oh, you are a high-toned familj', you are, to shake Jim Larkin, I've a word to say about another matter being as you've got me started, and that is about Nell — my sister Nell — you've made fine promises to her too, and do you mean to break them ? Do you hear me ? Take your time and answer me cahuly, for I can stand a good deal of jolting around myself, but when it comes to Nell it's a different thing. She i-! my sister and any trifling with her means death to the trifler. Trifle with her feelings and there will be a funeral, my boy, and yon will be the corpse. Ned. Jim, ( points io door, 'L.-E.) move. Jim. Do you mean it ? Ned. I do, be livelj'. Jim. And how about Nell ? Ned. Don't mention her name to me again. Nell is a good girl and all that, but she must not expect me to recognize her now. I want you to understand, Jim, that I shake the whole crowd of you, now and for ever. Jim. (Putting on his hat. ) All right. I am a man of few words, 10 BROKEN PEOMISES. but I'll see old Mark Fields. There is a chaper in the lives of two people — mother and sou— that will interest the old man, and I pride myself that I can tell that story as well as any one living, unless it is old Jack McCall, your fathe^-. 2^ed. My father you know is dead. Jim. Your mother .would give a good deal to know that he was dead. He is a character that will figure in the story that I'm going to tell to old Mark Fields. iVed. You dare not tell him ! Jim. Not dare ? We'll see ! (Laughs. Ned. What Mould your word amount to, when mother and I deny all you say ? You will find yourself in the hands of the police unless you are pretty careful. Master Jim ! Jim. I see I'll have to dress you off a little, Neddy. 1 don't want to take you unawares — look out, I'm coming. ( Prepares to fight. J I'm a man of few words, and can accommodate you to any style of bruising you Avant. Ned. (Loudly.) Lay hands upon me, Jim Larkin, and you're a dead man. Jim. And the liveliest dead man you ever knew. (Laughs.) I'm coming now, where'U you have it ? Enta- Mes. Fields, door l.f. 3Irs. Fields, (c.) What is the matter here, Ned? Who is raising this disturbance? Ned. Jim Larkin, mother. You and I know him too well for our own good, and if you had not come in when you did I would have kicked him into the street. Jim. Mrs. Fields, I'm sorry you came in. I wanted to feel the delightful sensation of moving out of your door under the soothing iufluence of a kick ! (Laughs. Mrs. F. Larkin, behave yourself, or you'll leave this house with a blue-coated escort you won't get rid of easily. Jim. A policeman ! Ha, ha ! Jfrs. F, Ah, you understand? And I think 1 understand the ob- ject of your present call ? Jim. If you don't, your son does. Ned. He means that we shall keep him a pensioner on our bounty. Jim. Is that it? A pensioner on the bounty of old IVIark Fields? Ha, ha, ha ! That's too good ! 3Irs. F. You surely do not think to make your home here, Lar- kin ? You cannot mean it ! Jim. You know I don't. But Ned and I were old friends once, there never was a bit of villainy hatched in those shallow brains of his but what he told me of it. He hates to hear it now — it's the truth, though, all the same. But I could overlook Ned's going back on me if he did not mean to act so meanly with my Nell. BBOEEN PBOMISES. 11 Mrs. F. Who is your Nell ? Jim. My sister, and a lady ! I^ed. Jim Larkin's sister a lady ? Ha, ha ! 31rs. F. Be quiet, Ned ! Jim. Let Lim give me much more of his chin aud I'll force him to wear his jaw iu a sling ! Mrs. F. You two are bound to quarrel. Good day, Mr. Larkiu. Jim. Now that is something like ordering a man out in some kind of style, and I'll go. Sorry Mr. Fields is not at home. I should like to become acquainted with the gentleman. I used to have the pleasure of taking a drink with your former husband, and that re- minds me that I am dry just now, awfully dry. 3Irs. F. Here, Larkin, is some money. Enough, perhaps, to add an additional lustre to that nose. Jim. Don't, madam, if you love me. That nose is a tender sub- ject, and it Jcnows it ! Mrs. F. It looks as though it was blistered. You drink too much ! Jim. Now don't ! That nose of mine ought to be a solemn warn- ing to all young men that drink, but it ain't. Bless you, that nose was once a handsome feature, but it is changed, as all things earthly change. Age dims the lustre of the brightest eye, frosts will wither the fairest and the choicest flowers, while drink puts a blossom no one cares to see on the most perfect nose that was ever blowed, sir- ree ! (Laughs. ) But I am moralizing, aud it is no time to moral- ize when a man is as dry as I am. Accept my thanks, madame, for this bit of paper, this thing the world calls money. Money the open sesame to the home of the aristocrat, the open sesame to the heart of women, the open sesame that does everything, and the open sesame to do everybody ! (Laughs.) Good day. (Exit Jim, l f. Ned. Thank goodness he is gone. I wish that I could feel that I was saying good day to Jim aud all his tribe forever. 3frs. F. Well, you are not. Old acquaintances are not dropped so easily. You may try to, but they won't stay dropped, and by treat- ing rudely such a man as Larkiu we may bring upon us troubles which we cannot fight. With the knowledge that man has of our past, you know that he could crush ns. Ned. Mark Fields would not take the word of such a character as Jim. Mrs. F He might not, but other people would. Let the tougue of scandal once be turned on us and we are gone — our past won't bear the light. Mark Fields is my husband, but we have not got his money yet. Ned. That is the essential thing. But how to get it, that is the question. Mrs. F. 'Tis easier asked than answered, ___ Ned. What if I married Kittie ? 12 BROKEN PROMISES, Ms. F. You marrj' Kittie — you— wh3% sbe does not notice you — more, sbe is engaged to that youug Lawreuce Bailey. Ned. To Larry Bailey ? Mrs. F. Do you know biui ? Ked. Yen ! I Ijave met bim. 2Irs. F, Where ? Ned. On the street one night — it was very dark, and — I wanted to know the time of day — and— well, I could nut help it ! (Laughs. Mrs. F. An unfortunate meeting for bim. Ned. Yes, the loss of a gold watch and chain, that was all. Mark Fields. ( Withoxd, lf.) What are you doing in 'ere, you vagabond. What are you doing with my cane? Jim. ( Outside.) It is all a mistake. 1 thought it w'as mine. Elder Mark Fields, dragging in Jim Laekin, /rom L.r. Mark. Who is this 'ere thing a-rummagiug around this 'ouse this way, wife? He 'ad my cane and was making hoff with it. Do you know who he is ? Mrs. F. (R.c.) No, my dear! I am not acquainted with either thieves or tramps. Jim. (Aside, L.) She knows a good many of them. Mrs. F. What was he doing ? Mark. He was a makiug hoff with my cane. A pretty looking hanimal he is to 'ave a gold-'eaded cane. If you 'ave a gold-'eaded cane, young man, you'd better sell it and buy yourself some clothes, not come a-slipping into the 'ouse 'ere to steal. Who are you ? Jim. I'm a missiouar}', and I want to build a chapel. Mark, (l.c.) A missionary, and with a nose like that! Ha, ba! Jim. Another blow on my nose! Mr. Fields, you've wronged a man that is trying to do his duty for the destitute poor, you wrong a man who is tr} iug to reclaim the little wicked children from the errors of their wicked little ways. I stopped in front of your house, and I asked a boy who lived here, and he said, Mr. Fields, then I asked him whether Mr. Fields was a good man, and he said that " Mr. Fields was that kind of a bilk," and says I, "what did you saj', my son," and saye he, "oh, pull down your vest," and I pulled it down as far as I could, and came in to see if you'd subscribe to the Eag Alley Mission Chapel. Mark. What do you think, wife, is this 'ere thing a missionary ? Mrs. F. I suppose we must believe him. Give the poor man something, Mr. Fields, and let him go. Mark. Do you really think so, wife ? Mrs. F. We should give to all charitable objects in this world, my dear. Jim. Charity covereth up a multitude of sins, my tulips ! Mark. What do you mean, you old clothes rack ? Be respect- ful ! BROKEN PROMISES. 13 Jim. I didn't mean auythiug personal. Give us what you can spare without robbing yourself. I'd love to report you to our com- mittee as one of our most liberal patrons. Murk. All right ! AVhere is your book ? Jim. My book ? Murk. Well, your paper then ! Jim. I don't understand. Mark. Wliy, if I give anything I want to put ray name down on something, don't I ? Jim. Of course ! Yes, yes— excuse me — where did I put it ? (Searches fiis doilies.) Never mind, a cash subscription will do as well, Mr. Fields. Mark. Yes, I think it will, when you get it. Will you take any- thing? Jim. Take anything ? (Aside.) What does he mean ? Mark. Yes, to drink ? Jim. Yes, gin if you please. Mark. (Laughs.) There is your missionary for you! You see that door? Now out you go — get, get ! (Flings him out.) Follow him, Ned, look after him, then give him in charge of the police. (Exit Ned, l.f. — l.c.) The idea of that man telling me that he was a missionary. It seems that almost everybody lies in this country. Mrs. F. There are so many imposters here, Mr. Fields, one rarely knows when to do a charitable act. Mark. A man must look out for swindlers. Even when he gets married he gets awfully sold sometimes. Mrs. F. (Aside.) Now what is up ? I wonder has any one been telling him about us. (Aloud.) Ah, Mr. Fields, these unhappy marriages often bring nothing but heart burnings and miserj'. Mark. Pray 'eaven that no such lot as that may full to us. But I sometimes think you do not love me, wife. Mrs. F. You are not yourself at all to-day, Mark Fields ! Mark. Am I not ? Well, well ! Mrs. F. (Aside. ) To get the money I have schemed for, I must pretend to love him. It's all pretense, for love's a stranger to my heart. (Aloud.) What makes you act so strange to-day, my dear? Mark. I've been thinking of Kittie, my daughter, thinking as bow she is not 'appy as she used to be, that it makes the chills creep over me. Mrs. F. That is easily accounted for. The girl's in love, my dear I Mark. With Larry Bailey ? What, in love ? Mrs. F. Yes ! Mark. Well, Larry is a good boy, wife. But I've been watching her for some time now. It's funny how girls hact sometimes, for yesterday when you were out I came in 'ere and found that she'd been crying, and I said to her, "My child, why do you hact as though 14 BROKEN PROMISES. your 'eart was broke?" And the tears fell faster as sbe said, "My father, you dou't know uiy troubles, aud I cannot tell you now. They are troubles which affect us both, troubles which have just be- gun. (Iln goes io the table and leans his head down as if in study. Mrs. F. (Downfro)d. ) She told the truth, her troubles have just begun, aud will end only at her death. I must have Mark Fields' money, and it shall be no fault of mine if she does not see trouble enough to crush her. To make a drunkard of her father and to ruin her betrothed, shall be a work which I'll devote my best energies to accomplish. (Gets ioi)ie and glasses from clipboard, k.) It grieves me, Mr. Fields, to see you so gloomy. Here is something that will make you yourself again. Mark. No, no, 1 guess not. Kittie don't want me to drink, she ■ says the 'abit is growing on me. Mrs. F, Is not my husband man enough to drink a glass of wine without drinking to excess ? Mark. I dou't know — it's a dangerous thing to fool with. I have found it so, and I am getting afraid of myself. Mrs. F. There is a glass for you. If you do not wish to drink with your wife, it is your privilege to refuse. Mark. I'll take it, wife, I'll drink with you. And now here is 'opeing that no sorrow may cloud the lives of any of us through this bright tempter ! ( They drink. Enter Kitty Fields and Larry Bailey, l.p. Ma7'k. (R.c.) 'Ere's Kitty and Larry. ♦■Now we'll 'ave another glass. Come, fill up. luliie. (uc. ) Larry does not drink, father. Mark. Don't, hey ? All riglit, we won't hinsist ! Larry. 1 have promised Kittie, sir, and I will not break my word. Kiltie. And I will never trust my future happiness to the keeping of one who does drink. And please, father, never again ask Larry to drink, he has promised me faithfully that he never will. Larry. Mr. Fields, let us promiae Kitty that we will not touch another drop. It is a little thing for us to do, and it will bring hap- piness to one whom we hope may never see other than happy days. Mark. Yes, I 'ad better do it, for I never want to see the day that my little girl will be ashamed of me. I never want to see the day that Mark Fields will bring disgrace upon a name that never was disgraced. I'll promise you, my little girl. Larry and I will promise. Mrs. F. (b.) Mr. Fields are you silly enough to be influenced by a sentimental school-girl. I'd be a man if I were you, and not yield my liberty to take a second glass when I wished to. Mark. Come, wife, join with us. We will all be the happier for it. ^^ BKOKKN PROMISES. 15 Mrs. F. Not I. Make your pledges to each other, what care I for theru. (Aside. ) I'll see you break them. (Laery, Kittie and Mark in groiip at back of stage, c, Mrs. Fields down front stage, r.) It is your time to smile now, Kittie Fields, but my time of triumph is yet to come. "When your father bec,omes so debased through drink as to cease to care for you, when your betrothed whom you now Ihiuk will ever be true to you proves false, I'll tell you of this day — tell you that though you once triumphed over me, it was but a brief triumph, while mine is a triumph that shall last through life — nay beyond this life, beyond the grave, even to all eternity. (Music — Tableau. END OP ACT I. ACT II. Scene I. — A Room at Nell Larkin's— PZawiZj/ furnished. Window, L.r. Door, e.f. Table — with pen, ink, and paper — and two chairs, L.c. Small round table, s.e.l. Two other chairs. Enter Jm Larkin, door r.e. Jim. Where is that girl, out as usual? Hello, she has been writing. I'll just look over it and see who it is to. (lakes it up.) Just as I expected, to Ned McCall. What does she say? (Reads.) "Dear Ned, why do you never come to see me ? My heart beats fast at every footfall. You said you never would forget your little Nell. You surely are trying to forget her now, or you would come." There, I've read enough. Sentiment of that kind goes back on me. Poor girl ! I suppose she cares for him as tenderly as though he were a gentleman. He'll never see this letter. (Fockeis it.) Just in time, for here she comes. Enter Nell Larkin, door r.f. Nell Larkin. (r.c.) You here, Jim ? Jim. (L.c) I'm here, Jim ! Ha, ha ! yes, I'm here ! Nell. Don't speak so harsh, Jim. Why do you try to hurt my feelings, and why do you leave me alone so much when you are the only friend I have in the world, unless it is — it is Jim. Ned MaCall. But Ned McCall is a good friend only to Ned McCall, and he does not intend to come here to see you any more. 16 BROKEN PEOMISES. Kelt. Jim, j'ou are deceiving me again. Jim. Deceiving you? Now that is just as good as insinuating tliat I lie. ( Going. J Good evening. Write to me if I don't come again. Nell. Come back, Jim, come back. I did not mean to Fay that. I want you to stay with me awhile and talk, and — and — tell me about Ned. What makes you think he will not come to see me more ? Jim. Now that is a business like question, and as I'm a man of few words, why 1 11 answer it. Nell. Go on, Jim, go on. Jim. Well, then, in the first place, since his mother married old ]\Iark Fields, he bus forgotten to call around and see his old friends, so I invited myself to call on him. It was a cold reception, but I made it warm before I left. Nell. (Beproachfally. ) What did you do, Jim ? Jim. Now no remarls forces Mark into a chair — Jim and Ned take hold of Kittie, ayid start to leave. Kittle. Help, help! Oh, Larry, Larry, help me ! (Music. Ned. Not this time, Kittie ! There is no Lairy here to help you. Miter Lakey Bailey, c. Larry. Yes, there is, you villain. I see I am just in time. I'll help you. (Knocks Jim down.) Take that, you scoundrel. (To Ned.) And 3'ou, young mau, never attempt to lay hands upon Kittie again or you will fiud that the settlement you will have with me will be oue you will have cause to remember while you live. Kittie. Come, Larry, father, come with me to the library. ( To Mrs. Fields. ) You see, I have yet a friend now who is able to pro- tect me. (Exeunt Kittie, Larry, and Mark, c. door. Mrs. F. (0.) I promised you, young lady, that I'd make a drunk- ard of your father, and that you should see your lover false to you. One of my promises I have fulfilled, and you will fiud my words come true in regard to the other. Jim. (L.) That is a good sized undertaking you've got on hand now, Mrs. Fields. It is au easy matter to get a man to drink, but to get a chap like Larry Bailey to go back on Kittie Fields will be a vast- ly difi'erent thing. Mrs. F. What do you know about such matters ? All men are fools. Jim. Thank you, thank you ! Mrs. F. When I determine to do a thing I never fail. Your sister Nell must play a part in this. Ned shall write some letters, sign Larry Bailey's name to them, requesting permission to call on your sister, and you, Jim, shall write one to Larry, asking him to call and sign Nell's name. As I said, men are all fools, and he will go. If he won't drink, drug him, chloroform him, any way to make him ap- pear intoxicated. I have already poisoned her mind in regard to your sister. When everything is ready I shall bring Kittie to your sister's rooms, and then my revenge will be complete, and my words come true. Jim. I don't like the idea very well. Ned. (R,) You didn't like the blow that Bailey just now gave you, either. BEOKEN PKOMISES, 23 Jim. I didn't enjoy it much,, that's true. If I understand matters rightl}', my sister is simply to be a cat's paw for the rest of us vil- lains. Mrs. F. If 3'ou have a mind to put it that way, yes. Jim. Madam, it will take some money to reconcile my feelings iu this matter. I will have to have something to soothe a troubled con- science. Mrs. F. Yonr conscience gives you little trouble, sir, but your greed for money is insatiable. Jim. Perhaps it is ! But money I must have for this thing all tho same. Mrs. F. How much ? Jim. Let me see ! First there is putting somebody's name other than mine on paper, that is a serious matter. Well, considering the wear and tear of conscience, it's worth fifty dollars. Mrs. F, Nonsense ! I'll give you ten. Jim. Fifty dollars, or the plot fails. 3Irs. F. I haven't so much money about me. Ned. Come, Jim, be liberal, for old friend's sake. Jim. Neddy, old friends go back on one another sometimes. If j'our memory is not too bad, you may recall an instance of it. Mrs. F. If the plot succeeds, I will pay you fifty dollars, but I've not got it now. Jim. I'm a man of few words, and full of business— put it down on paper. Mrs. F. Must I give my note to you ? Jim. That is it exactly. I'll write the note. (Jim seats himself at table, l.c. — Mrs. Fields looking over his shoulder — Ned looking on. END OP ACT n, 24 BROKEN PEOMlSES. ACT III. Scene. — A Liquor Saloon. Centre doors. Door s.e.l. Bar fixtures, &c., set E. Tables and chairs n.c. and l.c. OUier chairs. Baktendee discovered behind counter, E. Mder Maek Fields, c. door. Mark. Give me some brand}' and quick ! Bartender, (e.) All right, Mr. Fields ! Sugar and lemon, sir? (Sets out glass ofbrandg, sugar, &c., on counter. Mark. Ko, bring me a bottle of it to the table here. I want to be alone. (Seats himself at table, l.c. Bart. Here 3'ou are, sir. (Takes a bottle and glass to table, l.g. Mark. Yes, here I am, and a j)retty place it is for me. Bart. You were not obliged to come here, I suppose. Murk. No, but yoii are glad to get my money any^va3^ Bart. Your money is as good as any one's, sir. Mark. It don't matter to you whose heart is broken by it. Bart. That is not in my line. I am selling drinks now. You will have to look out for the heart business yourself. Mark. Go away and leave me. I wish to be alone. (Bartender goes back to counter, e. ) If I could only stop now, for this is a-kill- ing Kittie, it is. (Drinks.) It warms me so and stops this shaking. There is no use talking it makes me feel better. E)der Jim Laekin, c. door. Jim. r To Baetender, E. ) Good morning, Johnny. Bart. You are around early this morning, Jim. Jim. Oh no, not for me. But who is that solitary individual ? Bart. Mark Fields. Jim. That is too selfish. I'll invite myself to drink with him. Mark. It keeps a burning in my 'art all the time when I ain't drinking. ( Drinks. Jan. (Crosses to l.c.) Good morninp', Mr. Fields! Taking a little nerve tonic, are you ? That is rignt, a few glasses at a time and at stated intervals. Of course a man don't want to make a hog of himself. No, thank you, I don't care about drinking now. Oh well, if you are going to get mad about it, I'll drink. (Drbiks. Mark. Who asked you to drink ? Jim. Now don't get that off on me again. That is the joke yon get off on me on all occasions. Ill wash it down, however, with another drink, (Drinks. BROKEN PROMISES. 25 Mark. I came here to be alone. Why do you come to bother me? Jim. I have come to driuk with yon, not to bother yon. 3Iark. I wish you had all the driuk there was in the world, and that I had never seen auy. Jim. Oh, don't say so, yon make me so drj'. Why I should be as happy as a clam if I had what you've got away with lately. 3Iark. 'Appy ! No, it won't make you 'appy. It has brought more misery to me than anything else. It's a-killing Kittie, it is, but it seems as though I can't stop. Jim. I'll tell you how to stop. Mark. Tell me some way and I'll try it. Jim. Whenever you get thirsty come for me, and I'll do the drink- ing and you can look on and do the paying. Mark. Do you mock me ? I never have done you any harm that you should talk to me this way. Jim. Yon need not try my plan if you don't want to. But it was the best I had to offer -you could stop drinking and I coiild get a longing satisfied. Yon know everybody longs for something and the various desires and longings of the human family have been the cause of many serious reflections on my part. I think of the young maiden who longs for a lover, and when one comes she longs for him to pro- pose, and when he proposes she longs for him to marry her for fear he'll back out. Then after marriage she longs for him to go and be an angel. The old miser longs for gold, an old maid for a chance to gossip, and so on through the various shades of humanity up to Jim Larkin, and he longs just now for another drink, and he'll have it. (Drinks. Mark. And I long to be a man once more. You are smart enough to be sometliing, what do you want to be a fool for, and loaf around saloons, making a dead beat of yourself? Jim. We are even, old man. I was liberal with your brandy, 3^011 are liberal with your compliments. Let us call it square and quit company. Mark. What do you make your living at ? Tell me that. Jim. You are too familiar, my friend, by a large majority. Never ask a man what his business is ; it is often ii very difficult question to answer. But no matter, let us have one good square sociable drink together. Mark. No more for me, take it yourself. You may as well kill yourself now as any time. * Jim. Yes, thank you, I'd be happy to kill myself that way often. Ill drink to your health and happiness, long life and prosperitj% hoping that I may ever find you willing to gratify the appetite of a thirsty fellow mortal. Mark. It makes me shudder to hear a young man like you talk that way. I hate to see another man go down to death as I am doing. Oh, Kitt3', Kitty, my child, where art thou ? BBOKEN PROMISES. Enter Kittie Fields, c. — The Bartender starts tip and tries io stop her. Katie. Here, father, here ! No, you shall uot stop me. I will see my father. Oh, father, to thiuk that I should find you in such a place as this, and in such couipauy. Jim. Nothing objectionable in the company ! ( Struts and goes to bar, r. Mark, (l.c.) Oh, Kittie, my girl, what did you coiue here for? why do you come to KUcii a place as this ? Kiltie, (c. ) AVhy not, father? you are here. Mark. Is it not a shame that I am here? Kiltie. Yes, it is a shame. But won't you go with me now. I have never come after you before, promise me that 1 shall never have occasion to come for you again. Mark. Yes, my girl, I promise you I'll never come here again. Jim. He's a splendid promiser. Mark. Yes, I don't want to stay, and T don't want my girl to stay a moment in this place. Look at that thing, Kittie, he follows me around to drink off }ue, is he not a nice companion for Mark Fields. Look here, young man, (to Jim, r. ) it does no good to talk to you, if you want that stiiff there in the bottle take it It will make your eyes redder than they are, and your hand shake worse than mine. But there is one thing that it won't do for you, it won't make you so ashamed of yourself as it does me, for you are too far down the hill now for shame. (Exit Mark and Kittie, c. Jim. (With bottle as they leave.) Thank yon, here is hoping — Johnny I was in luck this morning. See here, a half bottle left, and here comes Ned to help me finish it. Enter Ned McCalt,, c. door, lied. I know where to look for yon, old boy. Jim. (c. ) You have come here often enough to learn the T.ray. Well, how did you make out? Ned. (li.c) Nell is all right now. She don't know what to make of Larry Bailey's writing to her, Jiyn. It's a shame to fool the girl that way. Ned. That is all right. Bemember, Jim, you are working for fifty dollars. Jim. And you are working for all that old Mark Fields has got. Ned. AVho has got a better right tlian the old lady to his money? Jim. His daughter would have, I think. Ned. It is none of your business as long ns we pay you for what you do. Bemember, Bailey is to be at Nell's to-niglit and you must be on hand. But I can't'tarry with you now. Important business up with me. Jim. Stop, young man, and lubricate your glands. ( They drink. BROKEN PROMISES. 2? 2^ed, That is no time. But I'm off ! To-niglit, my boy I (Exit Ned, c. Jim. I'll be there to-night, dou't fear. (Brinks at table, L.C. Mde7' Jack McCall, c, who goes to bar, e., and calls for a drink. Jim. (L.C.) Now who is that ? Some one who don't want any of onr vigilant guardians of tlie peace to gaze upon his countenance, I should judge. I know that iace. ( Wliisiles.J Now, won't there be fun ! Jack McCall! Of all the men in the world he is the last oue I expected to see. (Crosses to Jack.) Hollo, old man, let uie gaze upon you, let me take you by the hand, lleturu, oh wanderer, re- turn. ( Cidls. ) Jack ! Jnck. (R.c.) Hush! (Points to Bartender — They come down front.) Do you want every cop in the city to know that I am here ? Jim. (L.c.) I am sure I don't know why the distinguised Gen- eral McCall, once dead, now returned to life, should object to his name being proclaimed abroad. Jack. What kind of a game are yon trying to give me ? What do mean by giving me the name of General McCall? Jim. Didn't you know that you was a dear dead distinguished darling ot a General who dared to die for his country's good ? (Laughs. Jack. What do you mean ? Jim. Have you lieard from your wife since you left ? Jack. No, that is why 1 come back. Is she dead, eh ? Jim. Oh, no, no such good news as that. The lady who was once your wife is your wife no louger. Jack. Jim Larkin, if you don't tell me now devilish soon what you're driving at, you and I will have a serious misunderstand- ing. Jim. She's married. Jack. What ? Jim. Married. Jack. You lie. Ji7n. All right, prove it. Jack. Prove what you say about my wife. Jim. I can easily do that. I have just been drinking with your partner in misery. Excuse me, I mean her husband pro tern, num- ber two. Jack. Who is he ? Jim. Mark Fields is the name of the unfortunate gentleman. He is an Englishman, is a good fellow, and is rich, or was, but she is doing her bent to relieve hiia of it. Jack. How did she happen to take him in? She knew that I was living. Ji7n. Of course, but she did not care a cuss. She thought you 28 BEOKEN PKOMISES. wonkl never dare returu here, and she saw a p;ood chance for money. She pretended to be the widow of a General McCull. She played her cards well and roped her man. Jack. If the police don't interfere with me too soon she'll pay dear for her fan. I suppose she would pay considerable to keep Jack McCmU out of the way ? Jim. She would, I'd stake my last dollar on that. Jack. It would take a pile of money to cover your last dollar. (Laughs. Jim. More than you've got about your clothes now, I'll bet. But we are getting off the subject, let us resume. May 1 ask what you are going to do about it ? Jack. Yes. (Pause, Jim. Well ? Jack. Well I Jim. What? Jack. You wanted to know if you could ask what I intended doing. Jim. Yes ! Jack. You can ask, that is all right, but I thought you knew Jack McCall well enough to know that he keeps his own secrets. Jim. So does Jim Larkin, only sometimes be has a good one that he can aflord to sell to the detectives. Jack. You threaten me, do you. Now you come along with me. Jim. I'd rather not. Jack. I suppose so. I don't intend to fool with you. I'll let daylight through you if you don't follow me. ( Froduces pistols, Jim. I'll go Mith you, Jack, to the jaws of death. Jack. You are mighty near there now. Jivi. Yes, in a saloon. He-enter Mark Fields, c. door. Mark. Jim Larkin, you're the man I'm after. Jim. What's up now ? Ain't this business though, face to face. Jack. (R.c, to Jim.) Who is this man ? Jim. (L.c. ) Mark Fields, allow me the honor of presenting to you my distinguibhed friend Jack. Hush ! Jim. Too late ! Jack McCall I Mark, Jack McCall I th(!) 'usband of my wife . ( Tableau, END OF ACT IQ. BBOKEN PROMISES. 29 ACT IV. Scene. — Cottage Interior at Nell Larkin's. Door l.f. Window e.p. Tables r.c. ancf l.c. Boors s.e.r. and s.e.l. Five chairs. Enter Ned McCall and Nell Larkin, door s.e.l, iVed What right has Larry Bailey to be writing to j'ou when he expects to marry Kittie Fields ? NdL No right. I have never paid any attention to his lettere. I cannot understand it. Why do you wish me to let Larry Bailey come here to see me? You are keeping something back from me. Ned. Oh, you are always worrying. I want to punish him for his trickery ? Nell What trickery ? Ned. Is not this Larry Bailey trying to rob me of that which I prize more than all things else, the love of Nell Larkin ? Nell. I shall refuse to see him if he comes. Ned. No, that won't do, treat him kindly. Nell. I won't. Ned. You must. Nell. I must ? Are you my master ? Ned. Don't get angry, Neilie. I mean that you will please do as I tell you, for my sake. I must go, Nell. He will be here soon. I'll not be far away. (Exit l.f. Nell. (Sets r.c.) I feel that I am doing wrong. Why does Larry Bailey wish to see me ? If he is the betrothed of Kittie Fields he is doing her a great wrong in coming here, and I shall tell him so. Enter Larri Bailey, door l.f. Larry. Miss Larkin, I believe. Obedient to yoiar summons I have called. J^ell (Rises.) I fail to understand the import of your words. At your earnest solicitation, I have accorded you this interview. Larry, (l.c.) My solicitation ? Beg pardon, Miss Larkin, but I -am sure it was at no request of mine that I am here. Nell. I have your letters, sir. Larry. My letters ? I never wrote any. Ndl. ( Takes letlersfrom pockd. ) They are here, sir. Larry. Let me see them if you please. Nell, No ! I'll show these letters to Miss Fields and tell her what a poltroon you are. Larry. 1 shall be the first to acquaint Miss Fields of this plot against me ! 30 BROKEN PBOMISES. Nell. Plot, sir ! AVliat do j'ou mean ? Larry. Yon are very iuiiocenL. 1 see now why Nell Larldu in- vited ii»e to call. 1 Lave heard of yon, Miss Larkiu — until this mo- ment I supposed yon were a lady, but now I've chauged my mind. Nell. I am a poor girl, sir, one of the common herd, as yon would say. If ever again one of the dainty lords of creation of the class to which Larry Bailey belongs, dares to write to me, I'll dash his letters in his face, as I have a mind to do with yours. 1 suppose you imag- ined yon would find Nell Larkin madly in love with you, and by the love-light glowing in her eyes she'd tell you of it ; or she, perhaps, would seek to kiss your hand as a token of your power over her. If such Avere your imaginings you've been fooled, sir, for 1 would de- spise one of my own class who would be so base, much more than do I despise you, who fondly imagine that the little carcass enfolded in that broadcloth suit contains a soul as chivalrous as a Launcelot or Gawain. Enter Jim Laekin, door, i,.r. Jim. (c.) I'm just in time, Bailey ; you're getting pale. In a few moments more, and there would have been an occasion for a new monument in yonder cemetary. Strangers would read, " Hie jacet — Larry Bailey, aged twenty-two, talked to death." But I've saved you — and now I want to know what all this racket means. Larry. Those letters — she accuses me of writmg them to her ! - Nell, f Angrily. ) These letters — he denies writing them. Jim. Hold on here, one at a time. Take it calmly, my sister. Be calm like your brother. Now pass me those letters and I'll investi- gate the matter. Larry. With your permission I'll glance at them also. (Nell gives letters to Jim. Jim. All right. ( Examines letters. ) It is a piit up job— I don't believe you ever wrote these letters. Larry. I can swear that I did not. Nell. How do you know, Jim, that he did not ? Jim. Gentle, sister ; that is my secret. Nell. Who did write them ? Jim. That is a very important question. Larry. Do you know ? Jim. Perhaps I do, and perhaps I don't. Nell. I cannot understand these letters. But I find that I have wronged you, Mr. Bailey, and for my harsh language I ask forgive- ness. Jim. Consider yourselves forgiven, and thank me for bringing peace ; thank me for stilling the tempest of your wrath. Eemember there is a time for war, a time lor peace, and a time to drink ; let us indulge mildly on this occasion. Nell. Do you drink, Mr. Bailey ? Larry. I do not. I promised a friend of mine that I would not. BKOKEN PROMISES. 31 Nell Then keep yonr promise. Jim. That promise won't iuclude a compound that I'll fix for yon. Larry. Never miud, I will not drink. Jhn. Yes you will. We have had trouble here, and it's a rule of mine that all unpleasant recollections have to be washed away. (Ex'd s.E.ii. Larry. What an odd genius that brother of yours is, MIbs Lar- kin ! Nell. Yes he is. Jim is a man whom any sister might be proud of if he would only let drink alone, bnt he won't, and I cannot hope that he will ever be any better than he is now, and the thought of that drives me to despair. Larry. I can sympathize witk you, for drink has brought a world of trouble to a friend of mine. Elder Jim Larkin, s.e.l., with tray, glasses of lemonade, &c. Jim. Now we will indulge in the mildest kind of a drink. Small quantities of lemon and sugar and large quantities of water ! Here, Mr. Bailey, and Nell. ( Gives euch of them a glass— they drink. Larry. Your glass is not full, you are quite temperate. {Jim fills his glass from flask ivhich he takes from his pocket. Jim. I like mine flavored. Here is hoping, Mr. Bailey — oh, you have finished yours— well, here goes. My poor stomach will think there is another deluge coming, with all this water. (Drinks. Larry. I think you have flavored mine with something, it had a very peculiar taste. Enter Ned McCall, door l.f. Larry. Ah ! Ned McCall here. I fear that I am in a trap— you have drugged me. (Staggers to chair, l.) I'm so sleepy! Miss Larkin, I— did— not- think this of you— do not rob me. (Falls l. Nell, (c.) Ned, Jim, what does this mean? Have you killed bim ? Oh, this is dreadful ! See, he is dead ! Jim. No, he ain't dead ; but he is only sleeping. Ned. ( To Jim, l. ) It work's like a charm. Jim. Beautiful ! Here let us get him up and put him in that chair by the table. ( They pla^e him in chair with his head leaning on table, l. c. Nell. (Kneeling by Larry.) Mr. Bailej', speak to me, tell me what is wrong. Jim. (li.c.) Are the folks coming ? Ned. Yes, here they come. Nell. Tell me that I am not to blame. Enter Mrs. Fields and Kittie Fields, door l.f. llrs. F. (k. ) There is your lover with your rival kneeling by him. Men are all false. What do you think now of that paragon of men, Larry Bailey ? I told you that we should find him here, but that we should find him drunk was more than I expected. 32 BEOKEN PKOMISES. KUtie. (L.C.) Larry, Larry, speak to me, tell me why you are with these people. Speak ! Ned. (L. ) He is drunk, Kittie, there is no use in talking to him. Nell. (K.c.) He is not drank. Miss Fields, do you think I am to blame for this, that I have brought him here to make trouble be- tween you and Mx. Bailey ? Kittie. Do not come near me ! How dare you speak to me ? Go talk to Lawrence Bailey, who was once a man but now a man no longer. Nell. Listen to me, Miss Fields. Let me tell you all I know about this trouble. Hear me and believe me that he is not to blame. He has not been drinking. Kittie. Every word you utter is an insult to me. The curse of a poor heart-broken, homeless girl be upon you. You and that womau have crushed every hope, every joy of my life. My father ruined, and Larry — you have made him break every vow he ever made me. How happy you two must be, how you can rejoice to know that heart- broken and crushed, I go out in the world alone to battle or to die. (Goes to door, l.f. Mrs. F. I promised you, young lady, that this day should come — your father is a wreck, and your lover false — go and remember that I fulfil my promises. (Exit Kittie, l.f. — NELii sits hy iahle, opposite of Labbt and loeeps — Larky Bailey still unconscious. Jim. Well this is about one degree meaner than I supposed it was going to be. Poor Nell, there, has to shoulder all the blame. I am going to squeal. 3frs. F. Jim, remember the fifty dollars. Nell. (Bisbuj.) Fifty dollars! This, then, is a plot of yours against Kittie Fields, and you have made a cat's-paw of me to execute your villainy, and make Kittie Fields think her lover untrue to her. Mrs. F It certainly has that appearance. Nell. Were you concerned in it, Ned ? Ned. Yes ! Nell. And you, Jim ? Jim. I was interested in it pecuniarily. Nell. Who wrote those letters to me ? Ned. I did. Good joke, wasn't it ? Nell. Take Mr. Bailey home. You have blighted the life of that young girl, and you have ruined the name of a poor girl whose only treasure was her good name. (Music — Ned and Jim lead Labey o^s.E,ii. Fnler Maek Fields, door l.f. Mark, (n.) Where is she ? I can't find her ; I have looked and looked. My Kittie, I am looking for her. Did you see her, girl ? BROKEN PROMISES. 33 Nell. (L.) She was here, but is gone ! 3f7'S. F. (R.) Say uo more to him. Mark. (c. ) Where has she goue ? MIL I do not know. 3Iark. ( To Mrs. Fields. ) Do you know where she is ? Mrs. F. You do not expect me to hunt for her, do you ? Mark. I do. You have driven her away, now briug her back. Where is she I say — where is my little girl whose heart you've broken ? Mrs. F. Come home with me and get some sleep. We will talk about her to-morrow. Mark. You'll talk about her now. Do you know what I'll do with you if any harm comes to her ? Mrs. F. You'll blow around as you're doing now I presume ? Mark. I'll tell you what I'll do ; I'll kill you like I would a rat. Mrs. F. Mark Fields come home, and I'll get you something that will do you good. Mark. What's that ? Mrs. F. Brandy. Mark. If you offer me drink again, I'll dash it in your face. You and brandy were the cause of all my troubles. Mark Fields was a man once, but you and brandy have made fine work with him ; you have robbed me of my girl. Mrs. F. I rob you of your girl ? I'll tell you now what I do know. She has found that her lover was false to her and she intimated she would never return home. Mark. This is some more of your devilish work. Mrs. F. Well, suppose it was, what are you going to do about it ? Mark. What am I going to do about it? I am going to look for her until I find her, if it takes every dollar I have. Another thiug I'm going to do, I'm going to leave that truck alone which you've been giving rne. But I'll balk you. You are too anxious for a fun- eral in our' family — you thought I'd drink myself to death, and then you and that son of yours would have it all. Bat you are doomed to disappointment. I'll leave the drink alone, I'll find my girl, and there's one thing more I'll do, and that you'll find out when it comes, Mrs. F. Yes, of course, " In the Sweet By and By " when you quit drinking. Mark. You can taunt me with my broken promises, but by the memory of my dead one that is sleeping at Dunlea — in the green and quiet churchyard at my old home at Dnulea — I'll keep my word ; her child and mine shall never say that homeless and alone she had to battle in the world, and all for you. (Falls in chair at table. Enter Ned McCall, door s.E.ii. Mrs. F. You are just in time. I want you to help me get this man home. 34 BEOKEN PEOMISES. Ned. What is the matter ? Mrs, F. f Touching her head.) The trouble is here. Md. Is be a little off? Well, let us take biiu, Mark. (Starts up.) Lay a baud upon me, if you dare. Tou know better thau to touch me. Your day of trouble making for me is almoHt over. How pleased you were to see me going to the saloon each day. Each step toward that saloon was a step toward my grave ; but that is over now, and you two may find another home. (Mcits L,F. Ned. He has got it bad, ain't he ? Nell. (Aside.) I will tell him all about it. (Calling.) Mr. Fields, Mr. Fields. (Exitiur. Mrs. F. He intends to give us trouble. We must put Mark Fields where he cannot harm us. Ned. You don't mean Nrs. F. What? Ned. IMurder. 31rs. F. No. I suppose you observed that he was not in his right mind? Ned. Yqs. Mrs. F He shall be caged in an asylum. JVed. How cau we get hiiu there ? Mrs. F. By a physician's certificate, and Jim Larkin shall be our medical authority to certify in this case. Ned. Jim Larkin ? Mrs. F. Yes 1 We must act proiuptly in this matter. Patients at that asylum never get well when not convenient that they should. Enter Jim Laezin, door, l.f. Mrs. F. You are just in time, Jim, I want you. Jim. (E.) All right! Where is Nell? Mrs. F (c. ) She ran off after Mark Fields. Jim. Mark Fields ! What was he doing here ? 3Irs. F. Looking for his daughter. I am sorry to say, Jim, that Mr. Fields is not now in his right mind ; in fact, he is dangerous, and I think it is best that he should be removed immediately to a place where he can receive proper treatment. Jim. I comprehend, madam, but no kidnapping for James at the present writing. Mrs. F. Don't be a fool ; wait imtil you ai« asked. We want a certificate of Mark Fields' insanitj', signed by Dr. James Larkin. Jim. What, play physician ? I can't waste my valuable time iu that manner. Mrs. F. Jim, you must ; we want no fooling iu this matter. I will pay you well. You will certify to Mark Fields' insanity, and ac- company Ned and 1 to the asylum. For your services you will re- ceive one hundred dollars and expenses. BBOKEN PROMISES. 35 Jhn. When do I receive the collateral? 3frs. F. Wheu your work is cloue. Jhn. All right ! Mrs. F. After to-morrow night Mark Fields will be dead to all the world. Eater Nell Larkin, door l.f. Nell. No, he shall not die. I heard you, madam. Thank heaven, I heard your plot and I will save him. Mrs. F, Jim, you must silence her ! ( Tableau, END OF ACT IV. ACT V. Scene. — A Drawing-Room at Mark Fields* House. Centre arch. Doors s.e.r. and s.e.l. Tables ii.c. and l.c. Sofa l. up stage. /Six chairs. Miter Jim Larkin, c.from b. ; suit don't fif^ much too large. Jim. Here we are iu our new clothes. Don't we look perfectly gor- geous, they fit so close. I get all these clothes and one hundred dol- lars for uiy profound knowledge of the human system. These clothes were purchased for the purpose of sending Mark Fields to a Luna'tic Asylum. If the old man had to wear them, I think they would, but as he don't, it is as yet uncertain. Well, is this house deserted? Where are they all ? Here comes old Mark, and sober too ; that is bad lor the old lady. Enter Mark Fields, c. frorn l. Mark, (l.c.) You here ? Jim. (rc. ) It has that appearance. Mark. Where are the rest of them ? Jim. Sorry I can't inform you, Mr. Fields. Mark. Then we are all alone ? Jim. We are, unless you have some spirits about you. Mark. No, sir ! Larkin, don't you want to do a decent act before you die, and get paid for it ? Jim. 1 do, especially the getting paid for it. Mark. You know that Kittie is gone. 36 BEOKEN PROMISES. Jim, Yes, I have been informed that such was the case. Mark. I want you to find her. Jim. Me find her ? Mark. Yes, you have done enough for those two people ; you can work for me now. You find my girl and two hundred dollars is yours. Jim. I'll do it — shake ! ( Offers hand. Mark. My word is good enough. There is one thing more that I want to know, where is Jack McCall ? Jill). Well you see Jack's past record ain't any better than some members of Conj^ress, and he is not desirous of coming before the public prominently ut present, no I guess I'll keep my mouth shut about him. Mark. Wouldn't mouey open it? Jim. Thus far in life it has always' flown open for stamps, and this may be no exception to the general rule. Mark. Well, you bring Jack McCall here ; let them m6et face to face, that woman and him, and three hundred dollars will be yours. ( Going lip c. Jim. Three hundred dollars — shake ! I'll bring him here dead or alive for that money. Mark. I want him alive and soon. (Mail c. Jim. Ain't business picking up though. I shall soon be a bloated bond-holder. Two hundred to find Kittie Fields, three hundred to bring Jack McCall here ; I can do both. Five hundred for Jim in one day ain't bad. The world wrongs me ; people think I am in- capable of doing a good deed ; it's false, I am a'lways glad to act hon- estly and virtuously if there's any money in it. And now as I get a great deal more to keep Mark Fields out of prison, than I do to get him in, I am going to be virtuous and keep him out. And now I must find Jack McCall and fill him full of benzine and bring him here, confront the false wife, draw my three hundred and get bliss- fully happy. We will have an immense sensation here to-day. Jim Larkin will be an humble instrument in the hands of fate, for a given amount of n)oney, to work a terrible retribution. I feel that I'm a regular retributionist, full of deep laid plots and iiitrigues. If it wasn't for my modesty and virtue I'd make a statesman. Here is just the person I want to see. What does she want here ? Enter Nkt-l Laekin, hurriedly, c. from l. Nell. Where is Mark Fields ? Jim. He left a few moments ago. Hell. (L.c. ) I must see him. Jim. inc.) What is up, sister? Nell. Oh, Jim, you know that these people mean to do something terrible. , Jim. No ! that is all right. I am on the side of justice and right, BROKEN PROMISES. 37 &c., now. I am Mark Fields' friend : he has jnst paid me a good liberal sum for m,y friendship and it is his. But I have something for you to do. You know where Kittie Fields is ? Nell. Yes ! Jim. Go and bring her here. Nell. It is no use, she will not believe me. (Jim goes to table and writes. Jim. Here give her this, that will bring her. Find Larry Bailey first and take liim along with you. Now you get out of here quick, and get Kittie Fields — and stop, I'll go too, for I have some one else to find. (Exit Nelli and Jim, s.e.l. Elder Ned McCall and Mus. Fields, /?-o?)i s.e.e. Mrs. F. (li.) Has Jim got his jjapers ready ? Ned. (r,) I suppose so. 3frs. F. What if our plan should fail ? Ned. It must not fail. 31rs. F. If Mark keeps his word faithfully in regard to Kittie as he has about his drinking, she will be back here soon. Ned. There is one thing more that he has promised, 31rs. F. What is that ? _ Ned. He means to get rid of you and I ? Mrs. F. How can he do that ? Ned. If he should find father. Mrs. F. Silence ! never mention that man's name to me. Ned. All right, I won't ; but I am afraid of that man Mark ! Mrs. F. I am not afraid of him ; he has been under my thumb thus far, and there he shall remain until the time comes for me to erect a monument to commemorate his virtues. Ned. I hope so. Mrs. F. If he is not intoxicated, we must drug him. He must go to the asylum before morning. Eater Mark Fields, c. Mark, (c.) I wonder where he is ? Mrs. F. Who are you looking for ? Mark. I am looking for Jim Larkin. M7S. F. What business have you with such characters as Jim Lar- kin. Mark. He is about as good as the rest of you. Mrs. F. Be careful how you insult me. Jim Larkin is no fit asso- ciate for you, and I desire that you shall not bring him to my house. Mark. Your house— you'll find out soon whose house it is. ( Crosses to u 3frs. F. (c. , to Ned, r. c. ) You see we must not fail ; he means to give us trouble. 38 BROKEN PROMISES, Mark. (l. ) Here comes the young man now. Miter Jim Larein, s.e.l. Mark. Well, here j^ou are again. You are a very unwelcome guest, Jim Larkin, my M'ife don't want you here. Jhn. (L. ) She don't ? I am sorry, indeed I am. 3Iark. (l.c. ) If she don't want you here, she can order j'ou out. You can settle that between yourselves. I am tired and I want to rest a bit. ( Goes io sofa up siage L. Mrs. F. (L.c.) Jim, are you playing us false? Why was lij^ark Fields looking for you ? Jim. (c. ) Now don't be sill.y. Mark is a regular old gull. I took him in bad. Don't be afriiid of old Jim. Mrs. F. Remember you have not got your hundred dollars yet, and if 1 find any treachery iu yon, you'll never get it. Jim. Treachery — Low can you talk so ? Say can*t you pay a small installment now on tLat hundred? Mrs. F. No, sir ; you must go through what you've undertaken. Everything is in readiness. Ned, where is the chloroform ? Ked. (R. ) Here it is ! Jim. Do you ^ant it administered by a physician ? Mrs. F. I'll attend to this myself. 1 want none of your bungling. If he gets too much it will be another case of appoplexy, and I am going to be sure he gets enough. Is it time, do you think, to give it to him ? Jim. Shall I feel his pulse and see? Mrs, F. Don't 3'ou go near him. ( She goes softly to sofa, lu.) He ps. Jim. 'Tis well ! Mrs, F. We will find out soon whose house it is, he said — we will. I'll help you sleep, and if by this — ( Saturates handkerddef) — comes that long dreamless sleep, you ought to send your thanks to me when you reach that far off land uutrod by mortals, for to die by this is joy compared to what's in store for you. Now breathe it softy. Ah ! he sighs. Perhaps he is dreaming of the one whose goodness and whose virtues he extols continir.illy — t-he one who is sleeping at Dunlea. ( She presses the handkerchief to his nose — Mark starts uj) and drags her doinn c. ) Help here, quick ! Ned, Jim, come hold liim down, it Avill take but a minute. Mark. (c. ) Womaii, are 5'on the devil ? Is there anything human about YOU ? I thought every human being had a spark of pity or of love, but you have none. You thought to kill me while 1 slept. I was not asleep. I lay there, hearing all you said. I heard those words that meant murder, murder, and the one who promiKed me that she'd love me till death should come, was the one that breathed those words. Jim.. (L, ) She was afraid she'd break her word, and was hurrying death aloncr. BROKEN PROMISES, 39 Mark. Her will was good enough, but it was not to be ; let her siu be upon her. Enter LA-RRr Bailey, Kittie Fields, and Nell Larkin, from c. Mark. Oh, my girl, luy Kittie, you've come back' to me, come home. Why did you leave me? K'dlie. How could I stay, father, when all my friends, as I thought, had deserted me ? Larry, (r. c. ) She has had occasion to change her mind in regard to that, Mark. Here is my hand, Larry, t am glad to know you never wronged my girl. Kiltie. Nell Larkin was the one whom I blamed most for wronging me. She told me at the time that she was innocent. She begged of me to hear her story, but I would not. I spurned her from me, and 3'et she looked for me to-day and found me where I was trying to fight the battle of life aloue. Nell. (L.c.) I was the innocent cause of her bitterest trouble, and when I had a chance to right the wrong done through me by these people, it was but my duty to do so. Ned. (R.) Nell, Nell, be careful what you say, Jim. (L.) No remarks, Neddy, it ain't your time to speak. It is about time for me to rise and explain. 2Irs. F. (R. corner. ) Be careful what yoit H^y. Jim. (l.) I am going to make a few general remarks. I am here at present by special request — at the request of Mrs. and Mr. Fields. Perhaps you are not all acquainted with the fact that I am here in the character of a physician, an expert in insanity cases. Mr.'i. F. Jim, will you be quiet ? Jim. Yes, presently — you can have the floor in a few moments. And now yow will excuse me if I speak learnedly as becomes one of my profession. Mrs. Fields claims that she has reason to believe her husband non compo me)dis. It was intimated to me tliat my presence here was desired at this time ; no particular explanation was made, but, verhun sat sapienti, I came. I found that this devoted wife, \\'h(3 has always shown a remarkable degree of interest in her liusband, had decided that, however much it might pain her to see him go, yet duty demanded it ; and liis poor tired brain would find rest in the beauties, tlie joys, the pleasures that surround one in a mad-house. He might not want to go, but, nolens volens, go he must. 'J'he soper- ific was applied to his olfactor}^ organs, but the spirit within the man was stronger thau the spirit without, that was being applied. The chloroform failed, and I am now calmly waiting the move of the per- son witii the disordered brain. Mrs. F. We will pay you for this, Jim Larkin. How much do you get for betraying us ? Jim, A good deal more than you were willing to pay me for certi- fying that your husband was craz}'. 40 BROKEN PROMISES. Mrs. F. "What cau you do, Mark Fields, after all. I defy you to do anything with me, I am your wife, you dare not. Hark. You are no wife of mine, and to-night you leave this house. Mrs. F. Your first assertion you know is false, and try to enforce the latter if you dare. Mark. ( To Jim. ) We are ready for the next move now. (Exit Jim, s.e.l,. Ned. They have all turned against us ; can you not speak a word for your old friends, Nell ? Nell I have a word to say to you, not for you. I despise you now, Ned McCall, more than I ever loved you. Before you became an in- mate of this Louse you treated me with disrespect, yet I forgave you. I clung to you, for woman will bear much from those she loves, but when you tried to blast my reputation, making me the tool in your hands to drive Miss Fields away, there my love turned to hatred. — no, you are not worth hating, I scorn you, I disjnse you. Mrs. F. Who are you, Nell Lark in, that dares to utter such words to my son, l'"ou think you have triumphed over me. You'll see. Enter Jim Laekin and Jack McCall, s.e.l. Mrs. F. Who is this? Oh, Jack McCall, you fiend, have you come back from the dead to render my defeat more galling ? Jack. "Come back from the dead." Don't give us au}' game like that, l^ou knew I was not dead. You thought I did not dare return, and 3'ou shook me and took this stranger in. You run a good chance of the penitentiary. It's a good revenge I've had on you, this coming back to beat you now. Jim. (To Mrs. Fields.) Now is the winter of your discontent made most inglorious by the coming of this son-of-a-gun. Murk. (c. ) Woinan, you are not Avanted 'ere now, take yourself out of mj' sight forever. Go, woman, out of that door, and may you never bring to other homes the misery that you Imve brought to rpine. Jim. Sic transit gloria mundi. Mrs. F. There is no forgiveness in your heart, you say. Who asks you for forgiveness? Not I ; there's nothing that I ask of you. Farewell, Mark Fields ! The scorn you have for me, is equalled only by my hate for you. ( Exit c. Mark. (To Ned.) Yoimg man, it is time for you to go ; we are done with you. (To Jack.) I'll see you, sii*, to-morrow, but leave us now. (Exit Ned and Jack, c. ) The days th;it are past how dark they've been. Ah, this has been a home of broken promises, but we'll renew our vows once more. Trouble made me drink, but drinking did not cure them. The more I drank, the more the troubles came. They are over now, thank heaven ! She dragged me down I know, but Jim. llesurgam ! BROKEN PROMISES. 41 Larry. Give us a rest on your Latiu, Jim. Your role of physician has beeu played. You played it well, but now the play is over. Jim. And I am waiting for my fee. Mark. In due time you'll get that. You have done well. You worked for money it is true, but I'll grant there is a little virtue in you yet. Jim. You bet there is. I'm full of it. Mark. Jim, there are four of us going to leave this country soon. To my old home at Duulea we are going— Nell and Kittie, and Larry and I. Nell must go. She is not to be left here to suffer annoyances from those people. Over there she'll be free from them. We are coming back some day, and I would like it, could I see her smile when that day comes and say, "Poor reckless Jim has sobered now, there's no more broken promises for him." Jim. You've struck me hard, old man. A kindness to my sister lakes me off my balance as it were. If I could be a solid, square-toed man I'd do it for your sake. I'd hate to try it, I'm afraid the job would be a failure. Whenever you hear that old Jim has quit his pranks you'll know he's gone where there are no Broken Promises. Disposition of Characters, Mark. ,,. OUBTAm. THE ETHIOPIAN DRAMA PRICE 15 CENTS EACH. 1 Robert Make-Airs. 2 Box and Cox. 3 Mazeppa. 4 Uuited States Mail. 5 The Coopers. G Old Dad's Cabin. 7 The Rival Lovev-^. 8 The JSham Doctor. 9 Jolly Mill. rs. 10 Villikins and his Dinah. 11 The Quack Doctor. 12 The Mystic Spell. 13 The Black Statue. U Uncle Jeff. 15 The IMischievous Nigger. 16 The Black Shoemaker. 17 The lyiagic Penny. 18 The Wreck. 19 Oh Hush ; or, The Virginny Cu- 20 The Portrait Painter. [pids. 21 The Hop of Fashion. 22 Bone Sqnash. 23 The Virgiuigi Mummy. 21: Thieves at the Mill. 25 Comedy of Errors. 26 Les Miserables. 27 New Year's Calls. 28 Troublesome Servant. 29 Great Arrival. 30 Rooms to Let. 31 Black Crook Burlesque. 32 Ticket Taker. 33 Hypochondriac, 34 William Tell. 35 Rose Dale. 36 Feast. -> 37 Fenian Spy. 38 Jack's the Lad. ^ 39 Othello. 40 Camille. 41 Nobody's Son. 42 Sports on a Lark. 43 Actor aiid Singer. 44 Shylock. 45 Quarrelfiomo Servants, 46 Haunted House. 47 No Cure, No Pay. 48 Fighting for the Union. 49 Handet the Dainty. 50 Corsi can Twins. 51 Deaf — in a Horn. 52 Challenge Dance. 53 De Trouble begins at Nine. 54 Scenes at Gurney's. 56 Stage-struck Darkey. 57 Black Mail. 58 Highest Price for Old Clothes. 59 Howls from the Owl Train. 60 Old Hunks. 61 The Three Black Smiths. 62 Turkeys in Season, 63 Juba. 64 A Night wid Brudder Bones. 65 Dixie. 66 King Cuffee. 67 Old Zip Coon. 68 Cooney in de Hollow. 69 Porgy Joe. 70 Gallus Jake. 71 De Coon Hunt. 72 Don Cato. 73 Sambo's Return. 74 Under de Kerosene. 75 Mysterious Stranger. 76 De Debbil and Dr. Faustum. 77 De Old Gum Game. 78 Huuk's Wedding Day. 79 De Octoroon. 80 Do Old Kentucky Home. 81 Luciii da's Wedding. 82 Munibo Jura. 83 De Creole Ball. 84 Mishaps of Csesar Crum. 85 Pete s Luck. 86 Pete and Ephraini 87 Jube Hawkins 88 De Darkey's Dreani. 89 Chris Johnson. 90 Scipio Africanus. 91 De Ghost ob Bone Squash, 92 De Darkey Tragedian. 93 Possum Fat. 94 Dat Same Old Coon. 95 Pop-^e^y Df'an. 96 Di Rival Mokes. 97 Uncle Tom. ;, 93 Desdemr-ium. 99 Up Hen ■ 100 Do ]\laid ob de Hunkpuncas. 101 Do Trail ob Blood. 102 De Debbil and de Maiden. 103 D^ Cream ob Tenors. 104 Old Uncle J^illy. 105 An Elephant on Tee. 106 A Manager in a Fix. 107 Bones at a Raffle. 108 Aunty Chloe. 109 Dancing ]\Iad. 110 Julianna Johnson. 55 16,000 Years Ago. Either of the above will be sent by mail, on receipt of price, by HAPPY HOUKS COMPANY, No. 5 Beekman Street, New York. I THE ACTING DRAIWIA. PRICE 15 CENTS E LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS Single Life. Boarding School The Spitfire. Irish Dragoon. School for I'igers. Gabrielle de Bella Isle. Tipperary Legacy. Deeds of Dreadful Note. A Peculiar Position. A Private Inquiry. I'll Tell Your Wife. Fast Family. Antony and Cleopatra Married and Settled. My Friend m the Straps. School for Scheming (Love and Money). Our Mary Anne. Miseries of Human Life. An Irish h'.ngagement. How to Settle Accounts With Your Laundress. Advice Gratis. A Hasty Conclusion. Weak Points. Grace Darling. A Gray Mare. Middle 'iemple. The Original. The Sentinel. Tiger at Large. WhyDid YouDie? Sayings and Doings. Twin Brothers. Ask no Questions. 33 Cure for Coquettes 34 Cabin Boy. 35 Who Stole the Spoor 36 Mrs. Gamps Tea and 3'7 Village Doctor. 38 Family Pride. .39 Queen Mary. 40 Three Graces. 41 Race Ball. 42 Presented at Court. 43 A Sign of Aflfection. 44 D:incing Barber. 45 Who's Your Friend ? 46 Charity. 47 Wicked World, [ing Well 48 Mother and Child are Do- 49 Lying in Ordinary. 50 The ringdoves 51 Camille. 52 Lady Clancarty. 53 Ten Nights in a Bar-room. 54 Drunkard's Warning 55 Fifteen Years of a Drunk- ard's Life. 56 Fruits of the Wine Cup. 57 Aunt Dinah s Pledge. 58 Yankee Peddler. 59 Vermont Wool Dealer. 60 Persecuted Dutchman. 61 Stage-Struck Yankee. 62 The Limerick Boy (Paddy Miles Boy). 63 Drunkard's Home. 64 Bachelor's Bed-Room. 65 Perfection /I'he Cork Leg! 016 115 998 i 73 io i^et, r urnisneu. 74 The Lo.st Heir. 75 Is the Man Mad ? 76 A Trip to Cambridge. 77 Twenty and Forty. 78 Hob-Nobbing. 79 The Great Eastern. So Three Guesses. 81 Getting up in the World. 82 Wardrobe. 83 Generous Jew. 84 A Crumpled Rose Leaf. 85 Wild Flowers. [Ladies. 86 Don't All Speak At Once, 87 Woman Nature Will Out. 88 Aunt Bet-sy's Beaux. 89 Child of Circumstances. 90 Women's Club. 91 Shamrock. 92 The Changelings. 93 Society for Doing Good but 94 Matrimony. [Saying Bad. 95 I-Jefiuement. 96 Master-piece. 97 Frenchman. 98 Punch and Judy. 99 Afy Precious Betsy. I )o Woman of the World. THE AMATEUR STAGE. PRICE 15 CENTS EACH. Aladdin and the Wonder- ful Lamp. The Loves of Little Bo- Peepand Little Boy Blue. Little Silver Hair and the Three i>ears. Rohm Hood; or, the Alerrv Men of Slierwood Forest. Little Red Riding Hood. The Frog Prince. Blue Beard ; or. Female Curiosity. Jack, the Giant Killer. Two Gentlemen at Mivarts Dark Deeds. Marry in Haste and Re- pent at Leisure. Wearinij of the Green The Result of a Nap. Monsieur Pierre. Virtue Victorious. Love (Burlesque). Afloat and Ashore. Tragedy Transmogrified. . Fairy Freaks. A Medical Man. Harlequin Little Red Rid- ing Hood Fireside Diplomacy. Ingomar (Burlesque). Money Makes the Man. The Happy Dispatch. An Eligible Situation. The Pet Lamb. The Last Lily. 'I'he Three Temptations. Katharine and Petruchio ( Burle.sque). His First Brief. The Girls of the Period. Matched but not iMated. Penelope Anne. A Woman will be a Wo- man. Caught in his own Toils. Cousin Florence. Lucy's Love Lesson. A Game of Billiards. The Wrong Bottle A Lyrical Lover. A Bad Temper. •Women's Rights. Mischievous Bob. A PintofvVle. The Last Drop. The Wine Cup. Out in the Streets. Mothers and Fathers. Taken in and Done For. All's Fair in Love and War Dross frora Gold. Auntjerusha's Visit.. The Village Belle. Lord Dundreary's Visit. My Peter. The Cream of Love. The Babes in the Wood. Closing of the " Eagle." Don't Marry a Drunkard to Reform Him. Furnished Apartments. The Harvest Storm. Maud's Command. Out of the Depths. The Poisoned Darkies. Ralph Coleman's Refor- mation. Slighted Treasures. . Either of the above will be sent by mail, on receipt of price, by HAPPY HOURS COMPANY, No. 5 Beekman Street, New York.